


A Battle For Our Very Souls

by allonsy_gabriel, Sanna_Black_Slytherin



Series: History Obliterates (the Hamilton Reincarnation AU No One Wanted) [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Denial of Feelings, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Hurricane Alexander, John is Doing Damage Control, M/M, Poor Thomas, Sass Master James Madison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 05:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsy_gabriel/pseuds/allonsy_gabriel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanna_Black_Slytherin/pseuds/Sanna_Black_Slytherin
Summary: In which Parker meets the new kid, and James decides that this new school may not be a complete disaster.





	A Battle For Our Very Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The vote was overwhelmingly for James, so here he is!
> 
> A ginormous thank you to Sanna_Black_Slytherin for swooping in and saving the day and keeping this from dissolving into a massive mess. She's fantastic, and if you haven't read her stuff, you 100% should.

Parker was bored. This in and of itself was nothing new, but the sheer level of boredom he was experiencing was almost exciting in how drab it was.

 

He was in U.S. History, a required course for sophomores, and they were discussing _what else_ but the Revolutionary War. This meant that not only did he already know all of this shit, but he had to listen to a bunch of idiotic high schoolers discuss matters they didn’t even begin to understand.

 

Parker was just about to go off on Anna Walker, who, for some insane reason, was arguing about how the Revolution was unnecessary and stupid, when the vice principal walked into the room, a tiny kid trailing after him.

 

“Miss Hensley?” he asked the teacher, who had up until now been trying to calm Anna down. “This is James Matthews. I believe you have him on your roll?”

 

Miss Hensley seemed incredibly relieved to have something to distract the class from the topic at hand. Parker was simply glad that Anna finally deigned to shut the fuck up.

 

“Yes! Yes, hello, James. I’m Miss Hensley, this is American History, welcome!” she said, ushering the poor kid to the front of the room. He was a tiny thing, with close-cropped hair and large, coke bottle glasses. He was wearing loose jeans, a gray t-shirt, and an army jacket with the name ‘Matthews’ on the pocket that was so big on him he looked like he was wearing a tent. He also immediately started sneezing as soon as he got to the front of the room.

 

Parker couldn’t help but grimace. This kid wouldn’t last a week.

 

“Class. Class. Kids, settle down!” Hensley said, snapping to get the students’ attention. “Thank you. Now, we have a new student. This is James.”

 

James rolled his eyes and waved. “Hi,” he said dryly.

 

“James, would you like to tell us a bit about yourself?” Miss Hensley asked. James sighed.

 

“My name is James Matthews, my mom is--was--in the army, so I’m not really from anywhere. The last place we stayed was Oklahoma,” he said, and it was obvious he’d given this speech many times before.

 

“Was?” Anna asked because she had literally no tact and didn’t know when to shut up. Parker secretly thought she was even worse than Hamilton had been -- and that's saying something. At least Hamilton was intelligent.

 

“She, uh, she died, a few months back. In Iraq,” James muttered.

 

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Miss Hensley said. There was a beat of silence. “So. Since this is James’ first day here, he doesn’t really know his way around the school. Would anyone like to volunteer to show him around today and tomorrow?”

 

Parker suppressed the urge to facepalm. What was this lady thinking? Asking for volunteers? No one was going to _volunteer_ to help the new kid. Parker should know. He’d been new this year, too. No one was going to volunteer, and James would be left knowing no one wanted to help him, which was a shitty feeling if there ever was one.

 

Another moment passed. No one raised their hand. Miss Hensley seemed to have seen her mistake, and James looked like he wanted to curl up and die. Parker internally groaned. Fuck his determination to be a good person this time around.

 

Parker got up and walked to the front of the room and stuck out his hand. “My name is Parker Jones,” he said as a way of introduction. “And I’ll be your tour guide for the next few days. Welcome to hell.”

 

A couple of people snickered at that, while James huffed and rolled his eyes.

 

“Parker!” Hensley said. “I _should_ give you detention for that, but I won’t, for James’ sake.”

 

“Sorry, Ms. H,” Parker said with a little smirk. “C’mon, James. There’s a seat behind me.”

 

And with that, the two boys sat down, and Parker wondered what exactly he’d gotten himself into.

OoOoO

James didn’t like Parker on sight. The boy was loud, obnoxious, and seemed to think he was hilarious.

 

Plus, he was wearing magenta skinny jeans, and that alone was a red flag.

 

But, he was the only person who seemed willing to help James out, so he would have to get over it.

 

“My God,” Parker grumbled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard this much garbage come out of one person’s mouth in a single sitting.” He ran a hand over his face and said, a bit louder. “Anna, shut up, please. Literally no one cares about your ignorant opinions.”

 

Another reason James disliked Parker? He was eerily similar to Thomas.

 

“Mr. Jones, cut the attitude. Anna, this is a history class, not the debate club, and we’re trying to finish this lesson. Please refrain from talking,” the teacher, Miss Hensley, said.

 

“If that’s even possible,” Parker said under his breath.

 

James couldn’t help but remember another situation, one incredibly different from this, and yet so similar.

 

He shook his head. No. There was no point in dwelling on that. That was the past. That was gone. Thomas was gone.

 

A few minutes later, the dismissal bell rang, and the students filed out of the classroom. There, waiting by the door, was Parker.

 

“Whatcha got next?” he asked, hiking his messenger bag back up his shoulder. Damn, was this kid _trying_ to win the pretentious hipster award?  


“Pre-AP Biology,” James responded, pushing his glasses up his nose.

 

“Really? Me too. Nice,” Parker said. He then took James by the hand and drug him through the hallway to the biology lab.

 

“What the hell?” James asked as they stopped in front of the classroom. He had to take a moment to catch his breath, but he was just glad he didn’t have to drag out his inhaler.

 

Parker looked at him for a second, his eyebrows furrowed together and head tilted slightly to the side. “We’re here,” he said, gesturing to the classroom.

 

“Obviously, asshole,” James panted. “Why’d we have to run?”

 

“So we could get here in time? Wait, are you okay?” Parker asked, placing a hand on James’ shoulder. He was bent over so he could still look James in the eye, and his long, crazy curls hung in his face.

 

“Yeah, ‘s just asthma,” James said, pinching the end of his nose.

 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Parker said. “I’ll remember that. You good to come inside?”

 

James nodded, straightening his own backpack as he entered the lab. He hoped that this teacher would just let him slide into the class inconspicuously, but no. Of course not.

 

“You must be Mr. Matthews,” the biology teacher -- Mr. DeLay, if James had read his schedule right -- said. “It’s a pleasure to have you in class. Once everyone comes in, we’ll have you come to the front and properly introduce yourself. Has anyone been helping you around the school so far?”

 

“That’d be me, sir. James and I just had history together,” Parker broke in.

 

“Oh. That’s very considerate of you, Mr. Jones,” Mr. DeLay said. “I assume Mr. Matthews will be sitting near you, then?”

 

“If possible, yes.”

 

“Well then. That’s that. Maybe try not to scare this one off, Mr. Jones?” the teacher said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I’ll try, sir.”

 

“What did that mean? Don’t scare me off?” James asked as Parker led him to what assumed was their table.

 

Parker winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m… not entirely well-loved in this class. Science, in general, is a hobby of mine, and I guess people don't appreciate my wealth of knowledge,” he said.

 

“So they don’t like you because you’re smart? Isn’t this pre-AP?” James asked.

 

“Well, yeah. But most people take these classes because their parents want them to, not because they actually care. So whenever I show any sort enthusiasm for the subject, it pisses them off,” Parker said, rolling his eyes.

 

James scoffed. “That is unbelievably petty,” he said.

 

“Welcome to high school,” Parker deadpanned, and James couldn’t help but laugh.

 

So maybe Parker was an asshole, but he was a kind of endearing asshole.

 

James had plenty of experience with people like that. Maybe this wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

OoOoO

Parker and James had all but three classes together and quickly became close friends. Every day, James saw more and more of Thomas in Parker, and every day Parker recognized a bit more of his old best friend in his new one.

 

The first time Parker called James ‘Jemmy’, James thought it was some sort of fluke, a mocking, teasing nickname like the ones Parker seemed to give to his other friends (none of whom James had met, but he’d heard plenty about them). The fifth time Parker called him Jemmy in one day, however, he realized that, no, this was some sort of term of endearment.

 

A wave of sentimentality crashed into him as he was brought back to another friend, so similar to this one, who called him that. Instead of frowning and pushing it away as he usually did, James let himself be nostalgic, even if just for a moment.

 

“Hey, hey. James. Jemmy. Earth to Jemmy. Come in, James,” Parker said, snapping his fingers under James’ nose. James shook himself and blushed. “Was it pretty on whatever planet you were visiting?”

 

“Oh shut up,” James said, shoving Parker. Seeing as Parker was 6’1” and James barely hit 5’3” if he stretched, it didn’t have much impact.

 

“Whatever. We’ve gotta focus. This shit is due tomorrow, and I ain’t gonna get another detention for not finishing Hensley’s homework,” Parker said, turning back to his essay.

 

“You ain’t gonna?” James teased, imitating the thick Southern drawl Parker got when he was relaxed like this. Not that James was any better, but it was still fun.

 

“You deadass said ‘y’all’ five minutes ago. Shush,” Parker said, and James couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked in the low light of James’ bedroom.

 

What the fuck. No. Nope. Nuh-uh. James refused. He was _not_ going to have a crush on fucking Parker Jones, with his annoying purple bowties and stupidly long hair that got in _everything_. Over his own fucking 181-year-old dead body. He did _not_ have the time or energy for this.

 

“Asshole. Anyway, what do you have to write over?” he said as a way to distract himself.

 

Parker looked up from his laptop and rolled his eyes. “The Constitutional Convention. I’ll probably pull something out of my ass about James Madison and the Bill of Rights and the compromises and shit. I might call Alex in a bit, he knows all kinds of shit about that,” he said. Of course, of _course_ , he’d get assigned the one part of the Revolution that his dickwad past self wasn’t involved in. Well, the one part besides any of the actual fighting, his mind added helpfully. That part of his brain sounded suspiciously like Alexander. It was scary.

 

It wasn’t like he knew _nothing_ about the Constitutional Convention. He’d gotten letters about it from Jemmy--the original Jemmy, obviously--all the time. Plus, he’d read the actual Constitution and a few articles on the Convention itself. However, it still would’ve been nice to get something that would have made all these godforsaken memories useful.

 

He looked over at James and noticed the look on his face, one of careful consideration. “I could help,” his best friend said after a moment. “I mean. I, uh, know a lot about that in particular.”

 

“Really?” Parker asked, raising his eyebrows. “Why?”

 

“My, uh, mom… made me… read about it?” James replied. It sounded more like a question than an answer, but Parker didn’t judge him for it. He knew how hard it was for Jemmy to talk about his mom.

 

“Fair enough,” he said. “What do you have? Maybe I can return the favor?” Parker mentally crossed his fingers and hoped it was something the Asshole In Chief had been around for.

 

“The writing of the Declaration of Independence.”

 

Score.

 

“Nice. I’m sure I can help with that.”

 

The two boys got back to it, trading off information and explaining details that were probably a bit too in-depth to be known by normal high school students. Neither of them noticed.

 

They both scored a 100.

OoOoO

Parker was over at Alex’s again. He was _always_ at Alex’s. Not that James was jealous or anything.

 

Besides, it wasn’t as if he could hang out with Parker anyway. Nope. James was sick. It wasn’t anything serious, just a common cold, but it was still annoying as hell. Here he was, reincarnated, with a second chance at life and all that jazz, and what happens? He still gets a garbage immune system and the uncanny ability to catch any disease within a five-mile radius.

 

So here he was, lying in bed, hacking his lungs up with every other stupid breath, while Parker was off being best friends with a bunch of college students.

 

How did he even meet college students? Why was he hanging out with them all the time? Why hadn’t James met any of them? How was James supposed to be cool enough to compete with college students? He didn’t even have his learner's permit yet.

 

The sound of a doorbell interrupted his thoughts. Grumbling, he stood up, wrapping himself up in his bathrobe to make sure he didn’t accidentally aggravate his condition. His dad was working the long shift at Dairy Queen, so it fell to James to answer the door and deal with any possible visitors. The joys of life. If it was another salesman, James was fully prepared to belt out the entirety of the Les Misérables overture, his vocal cords be damned.

 

James opened the door, squinting at the three figures in front of him. "Parker?" he said disbelievingly. “What are you doing here? I thought--” James didn’t finish his thought.

 

Parker winced. He absentmindedly pushed one of his braids away from where it had fallen onto his face, and since when did Parker _braid his hair?_ It looked… oddly endearing. And also slightly attractive -- not that James noticed such things. "Hello, Jemmy."

OoOoO

“I dunno. I mean, he might be Jemmy, but what if he’s not? I can’t risk that,” Parker argued from his position on the couch. He was at Alex’s dorm with the rest of the ‘Hamilsquad’ for the Mandatory Game Night, and somehow they’d turned to the topic of Parker’s suspicions about James.

 

“But what if he _is_?” Alexander argued because _of course_ he did. He wouldn’t be _Alexander_ if he didn’t. “He could be right there and you’d never know!”

 

“I agree with Alexander, mon ami,” Laf said from behind Parker. They were braiding his hair, and tugging a bit too hard, but Parker wasn’t going to complain.

 

“Don’t pressure him,” Daniel, ever the mediator, said. “It’s his decision, and it’s a pretty big one. If he feels like he needs time, give him time.”

 

“Just because _you_ took actual ages to tell Theo doesn’t mean Parker should wait forever,” Alexander said. “It’ll be fine! Look at me and Jon! And Laf and Herc!”

 

“Alex, you _literally_ outed yourself while hungover. Shut the hell up,” Jon said teasingly, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek and wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist. Alexander grumbled something about ‘supposed to be on my side’, but he still sank back into the touch.

 

Parker pretended to gag. “My poor, innocent, virgin eyes,” he said sarcastically.

 

“Seriously, guys. He’s, like, thirteen,” Hercules said, completely serious. “Tone down the PDA a bit, won’t you?”

 

“Fifteen! I’m _fifteen_! I’ll be sixteen in, like, two weeks,” Parker argued. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized that this was not helping his case, but he didn’t really care.

 

“Basically a toddler,” Lafayette cooed, speaking like one would to a baby. “Anyway! Back to the topic at hand! You need to talk to James, mon ami.”

 

“Thank you, Laf!” Alex said smugly. “We can go now, right? You know where he lives?”

 

“Non, Alex, you misunderstand me,” Lafayette said in what was probably supposed to be an appeasing voice. “I am merely saying that this is not our concern, but une affaire privée between Parker and James.”

 

“He just needs to get it over with! I can drive him to James’ house,” Alexander insisted.

 

“You will do no such thing,” Hercules said sternly but was studiously ignored.

 

“It’ll be fine!”

 

“That is one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had,” Daniel groaned. “And that says a lot. Do I need to bring up your six-hour proposal for the American government?”

 

“Me? Having bad ideas?” Alex said, putting his hands on his hips, “I’ll have you know there is nothing that my mind can’t do.”

 

“You’ve got to stop listening to that blasted musical,” Jon muttered.

 

Daniel wasn’t swayed. “If there’s nothing your mind can’t do, that means it can do anything, including have bad ideas. You have bad ideas all the time. I keep a list. Do you want it in alphabetical or chronological order?”

 

“Okay, so maybe not all of my ideas are great, but this one _is_! I swear!” Alexander persisted. “He just needs to go and talk to James. Rip off the bandaid and all that.”

 

“This sounds like the opposite of a good plan,” Hercules said. “Besides, you’d be more of a disruptive presence in that discussion.”

 

Again, he was ignored. He was beginning to sympathize with Daniel for having to deal with Alex on a more regular basis.

 

Alexander looked at Parker for a moment, and Parker just _knew_ , in a flash of realization, that unless he stopped this, Alex would never stop pestering him. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s go. You guys coming?” He glanced over at the Frenchman.

 

Lafayette had the look of a deer caught in the headlights. “I, uh…” he stumbled, grasping for words. “Hercules and I… we have a… project we must do. Oui, un projet pour le socio. Just remembered. We should probably go work on it, shouldn’t we, mon amour?” Laf said to Hercules, winking in a way that said he was trying to be subtle but failing miserably.

 

“Oh yeah! That one. The one with the, uh, sewing. And fashion. Yeah. I totally know what you’re talking about. Let’s go work on it,” Hercules said. Parker couldn’t help but think that, for someone who used to be a literal spy, Herc _sucked_ at lying.

 

“Okay…” Alexander said, narrowing his eyes at his two friends. “Aaron? You in?”

 

“Doddie and I have a date night!” Daniel just about shouted, already grabbing his things. He leaned over and whispered to Jon, “Good luck repairing the damage from Hurricane Alexander,” before basically sprinting from the room.

 

Jon rubbed his temples. “Asshole,” he muttered. “Parker, get your things. I’m driving.”

 

“But--” Alex tried to say.

 

“No. You’ll get us killed. I drive, or we aren’t going.”

OoOoO

One of the other guys -- a short man, maybe three years older than James, with disheveled brown hair that, when brushed, probably fell down to his shoulders but currently looked like it had just been through a hurricane, stepped forward, unceremoniously pushing Parker aside. He peered at James before his eyes widened and a shit-eating grin crept up onto his lips. “ _Madison_ ,” he drawled. “What a coincidence.”

 

James groaned. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but in case you can’t see, I’m really not in the mood for--”

 

“Don’t you recognize me? That’s actually a little sad. And hurtful. I feel wounded that I didn’t leave an impression lasting enough that you’d remember me,” the anthropomorphic personification of a hurricane went on.

 

“ _Alex,_ ” the last of James’ visitors said in warning.

 

James glanced inquisitively at the guy who still _hadn’t shut up._ So this was the infamous Alex. Which would make the guy with the steadying hand on Alex’s shoulder his-- what? Brother? Friend? Boyfriend? (James couldn’t deny the flare of satisfaction at the thought of Alex having a boyfriend because it would mean that Parker was _not_ his boyfriend, which would, in turn, mean that James still stood a chance. Not that he wanted to. But, y’know, _just in case_.)

 

“Fine,” Alex whined. He cleared his throat. “Let’s try this again. Hello, Parker’s Totally Not James Madison friend. I’m Alex Hayley, but you probably know me better as Alexander Hamilton. You know, the guy on the ten dollar bill? The guy with whom you co-wrote _The Federalist Papers_? The guy who founded our economy? Still allowed to gloat about that one, Parker,” he smirked at Parker, who glared at his shorter companion. “Ring any bells?”

 

James blinked. “Parker, what’s going on?” he addressed his friend, ignoring the guy who, it was more probable by the minute, was the reincarnation of Alexander Hamilton. Even just the sheer speed of his speech would be sufficient proof.

 

Which, in turn, meant that, unless he was very wrong, Parker was crushing on _Alexander Hamilton_ of all people. And James thought that Parker had standards.

 

Parker sighed. “I’m sorry for this, Jemmy.” There he went again. ‘Jemmy’. “I just-- I told Alex about you and he insisted on meeting you.”

 

There were several things wrong with that sentence, primarily the part where Parker’s friends thought it was perfectly acceptable to just drop everything and barge into a stranger’s house to satisfy their curiosity. What stuck with James, however, was, “You told Alex about me?” he echoed.

 

“Yeah,” Parker said as if the fact was obvious. “I mean, you’re pretty much my best friend.” James ignored the warm feeling in his stomach at those words, “and I spend most of my week with you, so it’s kind of natural to, y’know, talk about you. Sorry for springing Alex on you so suddenly,” he apologized again. “Shit, this is so far from how I imagined this meeting would go.”

 

“You planned to introduce us?”

 

Parker was silent for a moment. “Eventually.”

 

“Parker,” James began, unsure of what to say. If that was Alexander Hamilton, then Parker knew about reincarnation, and, more importantly, believed in it, because there was simply _no way_ Hamilton wouldn’t have managed to convince Parker, if only because the man was chronically incapable of keeping his mouth shut for longer than five minutes.

 

“Look, I’m so, so sorry. Alex just thought that we should talk and everyone told him no but he wouldn’t listen because _he never fucking listens I swear_ and--”

 

“Parker!” James snapped. Parker looked like he was trying to swallow his tongue. “Listen to me, okay? I have something I need to tell yo-ACHOO!”

 

Of course, he interrupted himself with a fucking sneeze. Why wouldn’t he? This was James. Of course, this would happen.

 

“Bless you,” the third person -- Alex’s boyfriend, James’ mind helpfully supplied -- said.

 

“Thank you. Anyway, come in. I’m already sick, this can’t be helping,” James mumbled, gesturing for his guests to enter his living room. If they could be called guests. He herded them into the living room, where they all occupied the various couches.

 

Meanwhile, Alexander was _still talking_.

 

“Babe? Do us all a favor? Shut up. Please,” the third person--so it was Alex’s boyfriend!--said.

 

“Finally,” Parker said under his breath, and James snorted.

 

“As I was saying,” he said, sitting down on the couch, “Parker, there’s something I need to tell you, and I probably should’ve told you earlier, but I was scared you’d think I was crazy or something.”

 

“I won’t think you’re crazy. Promise,” Parker said, almost in a joking manner.

 

“Thanks,” James replied with his usual deadpan humor.

 

“So? What is it? What did you need to tell me?” Parker asked, and was James seeing things, or was there a look of hopeful anticipation in his eyes?

 

There was no good way to say it, so James went for the blunt approach. “I used to be James Madison.”

 

A deafening silence followed as the words sunk in. Parker stared at James with a look that was somewhere disbelief, relief, and shock on his face, and James just sat there, trying to gauge Parker’s reaction.

 

What ultimately broke the silence was neither James nor Parker. It was Alex. It was _always_ Alex. He punched his hand in the air. “I told you!” he gloated.

 

Jon winced. “I’m sorry about him,” he told James. “He’s always like that.”

 

James scowled. “I’ve tried my best to repress that.”

 

Finally, the implications of the situation seemed to dawn on Parker. “Dear God,” he muttered, and the next thing James knew, he had a lapful of Parker Jones.

 

“Jemmy,” Parker was muttering into the crook of James’ neck as he clung to him like he was drowning and James was a lifeline. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much.” A second later it dawned on James who exactly was hugging him to death.

 

“Thomas,” James croaked. “You’re choking me.”

 

Parker jumped back as if he had received a shock.

 

“Thomas? Are you alright?” James asked, placing a hand on Parker’s arm.

 

Alex’s boyfriend blanched. “He doesn’t go by that much,” he offered in terms of explanation. “Too many bad memories attached to the name.”

 

James stared at his best friend for a moment, thinking about what memories might’ve garnered that violent reaction.

 

He had a couple of ideas.

 

“Shit, Parker,” he said, pulling the boy into another hug. A moment later, he felt something wet against his neck, and could practically feel the vibrations of Parker’s sobs as the other boy cried into the collar of James’ fluffy bathrobe.

 

“Parker, shhh, it’s okay,” he murmured, wishing Parker’s hair was down so he could run his fingers through it.

 

“There’s, there’s _so much_ , Jemmy. I-I did _so many horrible things_ ,” Parker said as he broke down.

 

“Shhhh, shhh. Parker, it’s alright--” he began, but was cut off -- ironically enough -- by his own sneeze.

 

“No! It’s not!” Parker said. James glanced at Alex and his boyfriend, who were both awkwardly diverting their eyes. He heard Alex’s boyfriend mutter to Alex something along the lines of, “You should have listened to Herc,” but was at a loss as to what he meant.

 

Besides, James’ main focus was the person in his arms. Parker Jones. _Thomas_ Parker Jones, he realized with a start. The same boy who had been Thomas Jefferson, James’ best friend and staunchest ally. The same boy who was, even now, crying in his arms, so full of guilt and regret that it only enhanced James’ nausea. He understood where Parker was coming from, but that didn’t mean liked seeing him like this. In fact, he hated it.

 

“Parker, can you look at me, please?” James asked quietly, kissing Parker’s temple without thinking.

 

Shit. This went _way_ past platonic.

 

James gave an internal shrug. Oh well. His ongoing sexuality crisis could wait. He had bigger issues to deal with right now.

 

Parker slowly pulled away from James so he could meet his eyes, but he kept his hands knotted in the fabric of James’ robe.

 

“I’m not going to deny it, what you did it the past was terrible,” James said softly, and Parker’s eyes grew wide and scared. Fuck. That hadn’t come out right.

 

“Jemmy, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know it was wrong, it was disgusting, I just--”

 

“Shhh, shhh, Parker. I’m sorry, sweethear-man,” James said, internally grimacing at his fumble. “That wasn’t what I meant at all! I meant, yes, it was bad, but it’s also _not you_. You are _not_ Thomas Jefferson. You are Parker Jones. You are the most kind, loving, hilarious, thoughtful, and wonderful person I’ve ever met in either lifetime. _You_ didn’t do any of those things. You would _never_ do those things. You’re not him. You have his memories, but you’re _not him_.”

 

Parker had stopped crying by the time James had finished, his eyes red and puffy and tear tracks staining his face. James thought he was gorgeous.

 

James Matthews was not a rash person. He was no Aaron Burr, of course, but he did take the time to think things through and consider the consequences of his actions. He was patient, he was logical, he was rational, and he was most certainly _not_ the kind of person who randomly kissed their best friend, especially when he was sick.

 

Or so he thought.

 

The warmth of Parker’s lips on his, the feeling of Parker’s hands on his waist, Alexander’s cheers from behind them, and his loss of breath when they finally drew apart, said otherwise.

 

“That was--” Parker said. “Woah. Okay. I didn’t expect that.”

 

James sported a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

 

This coaxed a laugh out of Parker. “You could never make me uncomfortable, Jemmy,” he said, affection clear in his voice.

 

“Aaaaaand this is our cue to go,” Alex’s boyfriend said from somewhere behind James’ shoulder.

 

“Use protection!” Alex shouted as he was ushered out the door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

 

Parker huffed. “That doesn’t eliminate much,” he muttered.

 

“That is a mental image I did _not_ need,” James mumbled.

 

There was another beat of quiet. “So,” Parker said, scooting closer to James, “That was fun.”

 

James smirked. “Care for a repeat?”

 

“Care to indulge me?” Parker said, grinning down at his… boyfriend? Significant other? Partner? Super awesome best friend no-homo buddies? Super awesome best friend full-homo buddies?

 

James’ smirk melted into a soft smile. “Of course,” he said quietly, and he leaned into kiss Parker again.

 

This wouldn’t be easy. James knew that, and he accepted it as the truth. He was aware of the fact that Parker had issues that he needed to deal with, both alone and with James’ help, and that he himself had some of those issues too. They wouldn’t be going away anytime soon -- but those problems could wait until tomorrow.

 

For right now? He had Parker, here, with him, and that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked this as much as I liked writing it!
> 
> Same question as last time, who's next? Or do you guys want a pause before the introduction of new characters? What sounds good?


End file.
